


The Hot Plumber

by Downtoncat



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Asking Out, Flirting, Hot Plumber, M/M, One Shot, date, horny thomas, muscles & sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downtoncat/pseuds/Downtoncat
Summary: A one-shot where the man coming to fix the boiler isn't Mr Sellick, but rather someone else…





	The Hot Plumber

‘You could be a sort of…’

A sort of what? A sort of second fiddle. Sort of cast aside. Shafted.

As he’s always been.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he took another drag off his cigarette, deep and long. God, it may have been a bad habit but smoking always had a calming effect on Thomas. There was hardly a better combination than silence, solace and nicotine.

‘Shouldn’t we get to decide what we put on our dining table?’

Lady Mary’s words spun around in his mind like a broken record. This ridiculous demotion was only a further confirmation that Thomas could never fill Carson’s shoes. Not when it really mattered. Not as far as Lady Mary was concerned. One little thing doesn’t get done as she would have it, and there she goes, running back to the old codger.

_Fair enough,_ Thomas thought. The old man always had a soft spot for the eldest Crawley daughter, and she did grow up looking up to him as if he were her father figure – but then again, it still wasn't right what she'd done. What did Lady Mary know about running a house like Downton? Managing the servants, the preparations… Just because not _all_ the sliver had been polished yet was no reason to question Thomas’s authority and plot behind his back to undermine him.

Thomas took another long drag and exhaled a thick puff of light-grey smoke while twirling the cigarette between his fingers.

He was very bitter about this – but on the other hand it did give him some pleasure to think that he could leave them to deal with that bloody broken boiler. The plumber was almost an hour late as it was, but it wasn't Thomas's problem.

Fine! He'll take some time off, relax a bit. Let the rest of them deal with pleasing not only the King and Queen, but also deal with the chaos that has ensued downstairs since the royal staff arrived. Thomas had no desire to butt heads with the King’s Page of The Backstairs - but it was almost amusing to stand by and watch Carson take that role.

“‘Scuse me,” a low, almost raspy voice spoke and interrupted Thomas from his thoughts. “I’ve come to fix the boiler.”

Thomas’s eyes promptly flew open, and he matched the voice to the face. The man standing before him was tall and slender, brown-haired, and sporting a neatly trimmed moustache and a tawny hat that matched his suit.

“Chris Webster,” he introduced himself and put his toolbox down by his feet to free his hands; then he reached out to shake Thomas’s hand.

Thomas only now realized that he was rather daftly staring at the man. He quickly dropped his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it before shaking the man’s hand.

“Oh yes, hello. I’m Mr Barrow, I’m the butler here,” he replied, straightening his uniform.

Just as the words left his lips, a strange feeling washed over him. _Well,_ _I am _still_ the butler, even if the old man’s been brought back from the dead to replace me for a couple of days._

“Sorry I’m late,” Chris apologized. “Had another job to finish and it took a bit longer than I thought…”

Thomas was listening, but not as attentively as perhaps he should be. He couldn’t help it; for a split second he lost himself in Chris’s brown eyes. They were big and round, the hue of dark chocolate-

“So er… this way, is it?” Chris asked and turned his head towards the backdoor to the servants’ entrance.

Thomas quickly snapped out of his little momentary trance and nodded hastily.

“Uh, yeah! Right this way,” he gestured. “Please, follow me-”

But then he paused, half-turned around, and looked down at Chris’s things.

“D’you need any help with…?”

It was only a small toolbox, he wasn’t sure why he was asking.

“I’ll manage, thanks,” Chris replied with a smile, still holding eye contact with Thomas as he reached down to pick up his tools.

Thomas swallowed. He felt his stomach drop with some strange emotion that he refused to acknowledge. How daft! It couldn’t have been- he was imagining it, surely!

He let the moment fade away and led Chris into the house. As soon as he opened the door, a loud din enveloped them; everyone was running about, preparing this or that, shouting orders or making haste to fulfill them. The downstairs at Downton wasn’t meant for such a large group of people, this much was obvious. It was crowded and suffocating, especially because the atmosphere between the Downton and the royal staff was not the friendliest one.

People hardly paid any attention to Thomas and Chris as they walked in and made their way past all those busy men and women.

Thomas turned around to Chris behind him, giving him an apologetic look.

“Sorry about this,” he commented. “Not every day this shabby old place gets to host the King and Queen of England.”

“It’s all the village talks about,” Chris said in reply. “Not that the place is shabby, that is. At least it won’t be, once your boiler is up and running again, eh?”

He smirked and found Thomas’s eyes for that brief second when the butler’s face was turned towards him. It was almost intrusive, but Thomas didn’t mind. Not in the slightest.

As they made their way round the corner and down the hall, they ran into Mr Carson and Mr Wilson.

They were standing opposite each other, both puffing their chests and standing proudly and regally, as if attempting to outdo the other in every way possible, even in propriety and sophistication.

“You misunderstand me, Mr Carson. I’m only trying to do my job.”

“Well, you seem to be under the impression that my staff and I will have no say in the preparations whatsoev-”

Mr Carson’s booming voice went silent in the middle of his sentence as he spotted the two younger men approaching.

“Mr Barrow,” he said in a questing tone that carried a hint of embarrassment to be caught in such a state.

“Mr Carson, Mr Wilson,” Thomas greeted both men. “This is Mr Webster, he’s here to fix the boiler,” Thomas explained while Chris tipped his hat to both older men.

“Right, well, then sho-“

“Show him to the boiler room, Mr Barrow, if you please. Let’s sort this out as quickly as possible, shall we?”

Carson’s expression was pure outrage and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he turned incredulously towards Mr Wilson who had finished the sentence.

The corners of Thomas’s lips darted upwards and he nodded before he and Chris walked along. They could still hear the other two as they continued to bicker.

“Mr Wilson, forgive me but I must insist that you let me-”

“Stay out of our way, Mr Carson, it really is this simple!”

Thomas was beginning to enjoy this. It could have been his problem, but instead here he was, savouring a lack of responsibility and a long overdue spot of freedom. Perhaps it wasn't so bad after all.

“You didn’t tell me there were three butlers here, Mr Barrow,” Chris’s voice commented as he caught up with Thomas and proceeded to walk side by side with him down the hall. His arm brushed against Thomas’s who felt an odd yet not undesirable jolt in his stomach at the touch. He wished it were more than a brief touch.

“In truth, it really is only me," the black-haired man replied. "_I’m_ the butler here but as you can see, unfortunately I’ve been usurped for the duration of this visit...”

“Wouldn’t mind it if I were you,” the other man said. “From the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like you’re missing any fun,” the moustached man commented with a smirk, and Thomas smiled in response.

The more they approached the boiler room, the more they left all the din and the crowd behind.

“Here it is,” Thomas announced and gestured to the boiler as they entered.

Chris leaned down to put his toolbox on the floor and then shuffled through it.

Thomas’s eyes instinctively landed on his striped brown trousers, observing the fabric that stretched over the shape of the man’s upper thighs and backside. He let his eyes rest there for the briefest moment.

Still leaning down, Chris turned his head towards Thomas and caught him staring.

Thomas’s eyes darted down to the floor sheepishly as he went hot in the face. _God, you stupid conspicuous sod!_

“Well, I- I’ll leave you to it then,” he muttered, his voice unsteady with embarrassment.

Chris chuckled under his breath. “Alright,” he said, appearing amused.

His eyes followed Thomas, remaining fixed on his body as he walked out of the boiler room.

* * *

He stood under the doorframe in silence and swallowed dryly as he observed Chris’s lean and muscular arms, the skin bared thanks to the sleeves which had been rolled up. Thomas revelled in the sight before him, watching Chris’s muscles were flex while he was tightening a loose bolt.

_I shouldn’t… I should say something, let him know I’m here,_ he thought.

But he didn’t. He stood there, still as a statue, the invitation for tea that he was about to pass on only vaguely shaped in his mind.

He could let himself a moment, couldn’t he? He hadn’t had a chance for this since… well, since a very, very long while.

“Need something?”

Chris’s head turned around, a mischievous smirk drawn across his face.

Thomas straightened himself, mouth quickly moving to shape words, but for a second or two no sound came out.

“I- I was just- just wanted to invite you to join us for a cup of tea in the servant’s hall,” he muttered. He decided it best to drop any attempt at excuses. Maybe if he lets it go, it will be alright. “You’ve been at it for a while, so Mrs Patmore thought…”

“Thanks,” Chris replied happily and diverted his attention back to the pipe. “I’ll only be a minute, just have to fasten the rest of these.”

Thomas lingered for a moment, but then he turned around to leave.

“You can stay if you want,” Chris’s voice called after him, very calmly and warmly. “As I said, it’ll only take a moment. You can watch if you want. I don’t mind it.”

Thomas felt his face going scarlet; he wasn’t imagining it. Chris saw him looking before, and he wanted him to _keep_ looking.

He burst into a bashful smile, looking down; but soon he couldn’t resist lifting his gaze once again.

He observed Chris’s crafty hands as they performed some repairs on the boiler that Thomas wasn't sure how to describe. He didn’t have to know what he was doing to know that he liked how Chris looked while doing it.

He carefully circled round and closer to the man kneeling on the floor. A few strands of hair were falling over his eyes, damp with sweat. Thomas felt a slow rise of some long-cast-aside desire in his stomach and fruitlessly tried to push it aside. _He wants you to look._

“Could you pass me that screwdriver?” Chris asked and stretched out his hand for a tool that was lying on the floor just outside his reach. “Shouldn’t exactly ask for a butler's help but-”

“I don’t mind,” Thomas cut in and smirked, echoing the same words that Chris had spoken to him only a moment ago.

He moved swiftly to oblige him, and as he gave Chris the item, their fingers brushed together.

Chris’s palm was warm and unusually soft for a man of his occupation. Standing so close to him, Thomas felt the heat radiating from his body (or was it just the boiler?), and he could even see little drops of sweat on his toned forearm.

His heart skipped a beat as Chris didn’t miss the opportunity to look Thomas in the eye once again.

“Thank you, Mr Barrow,” he replied, his voice deep and velvety.

Thomas wasn’t sure what his body did in response, but he felt the corners of his mouth lift upwards, and another set of muscles tightened, somewhat lower on his body. It had been so long… A sight of a sweaty man with his sleeves rolled up was enough to make him go weak at the knees! _You bloody fool!_ He felt a warm sensation in his groin and he knew that he had to get out of here before he let it overwhelm him.

“Alright, that should do it,” Chris commented as he stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. “The King and Queen will have hot water at Downton Abbey, no worries.”

They smiled and walked over to the kitchen for tea.

* * *

“A dancing plumber, my my,” Mr Patomore sighed and smiled. “Will wonders never cease!”

“Well, I’ve always enjoyed it. It's a hobby, thought I can’t say I’m any good,” Chris commented.

"I'm sure you are," Thomas added quietly.

Chris brought the cup to his mouth and took another sip, eyes looking up to find Thomas’s rather shy ones.

There were a few of them gathered in the servant's hall; Mrs Patmore and Daisy were just cleaning up, Mrs Baxter was sitting at the table, sewing, and Thomas was in his chair, listening with the rest of them about a few details from Chris’s life.

“Mr Barrow likes to dance too,” Daisy said and turned to Thomas, who was flabbergasted to suddenly be put in the spotlight like this.

“Does he?” Chris said with amusement and wasted no time to grab the opportunity. “Well then perhaps you’d like to come along on Friday? There’s a fun place in York, I’m going with a few of my mates. You’ll have your pick of the ladies there,” he added and winked at Thomas.

Thomas looked down, smiling and shaking his head.

“I’d love to, but I don’t think I can – I mean- the royal visit-”

“Oh, go on Mr Barrow, you’re off duty here,” Mrs Baxter encouraged him. "I'm sure they can spare you for one night."

Thomas was suspecting that she was onto them, and as much as he appreciated her support and fancied Chris, he hesitated.

“But your mates, won’t they mind?” he asked, addressing the brown-haired man again.

Chris waved his hand. “Not at all. The more the merrier.”

Thomas pondered for a moment, looking at all the faces staring back at him encouragingly.

“Well I suppose one night can’t hurt,” he shrugged at last. “I’ll have to ask his Lordship, but I doubt he can say no after the way he demoted me,” he added dryly.

After a while, when they had finished their tea and conversation, Thomas escorted Chris to the door. Most of the staff had gone to bed at last, and it was very quiet now, with only a few lights still on in the mansion.

The cool night air brushed against their skin as Thomas opened the backdoor.

“There are no other mates, are there, Mr Webster?” he whispered against the other man’s ear, daring enough to lean this close.

Chris’s response was a mischievous grin.

“There might also not be that many ladies if we’re being honest, Mr Barrow,” he said, turning his face so that he was now only inches away from Thomas’s, and his eyes scanned the red lips, dangerously close to his own.

But then he looked up and their eyes locked once again, a galaxy of unspoken words, desires and anticipation floating between them.

Chris leaned in, his lips brushing against Thomas’s ever so slightly; but Thomas’s mouth parted readily and let him in, let him deepen the kiss, let them taste each other. It was ever so brief, but it roused something in Thomas that he thought he'd long lost.

“’Till Friday then,” Chris said as he leaned away. With a smile he stepped into the night.

Thomas stood under the doorframe for a while longer, tracing his lips gently with his fingers and thinking of the hope and promise that were locked inside that kiss.


End file.
